Broken Beyond Repair
by My-Name-Is-Tori
Summary: Sequel to Will You Just Listen To Me For A Second? Carlos has a long way to go before he's recovered. Who says he's not already broken beyond repair?


**Author's Note: Yep, this is the sequel to Will You Just Listen To Me For a Second? This is a Carlos story, if you couldn't already tell. No, I do not have any idea where I'm taking this story. All I know is I really wanted to write a story about Carlos and his depression. Anywho, if you haven't read Will You Just Listen To Me For a Second? then you should really go ready it. It'll make this story make more sense. I don't know how often I'll be able to update, since I want to start another story, but it won't take me five months to update, that's for sure. I hope.**

**Anyway, enjoy chapter one!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Big Time Rush.**

The sun came in through the window, hitting Carlos Garcia in the face. He blinked, having already been awake. He sat up, looking across the room at Logan Mitchell, who was still fast asleep. Carlos breathed a sigh of relief and went into the bathroom. No one was ever awake when he got up for what he called his 'daily medicine.'

Carlos opened the cabinet to find his hidden Swiss Army Knife. He flipped out the knife and tested the blade. It was nice and sharp, how Carlos liked it. He pulled his sleeve up to reveal all the scars on his shoulder. It was a row of seventeen scars, eighteen after today. He checked that the door was locked again, made sure the fan was on in case he gasped like last time, and readied himself.

He put the knife on his shoulder and pressed down on it, watching as blood came out of the wound. He didn't know why this was so satisfying to him, the pain. It made him sore, and he wanted to stop, but it was like an addiction.

Carlos pulled out his secret stash of cloth. It was stained, the blood on it now faded to a rusty orange. He doubted that anyone recognize it as blood if they looked at it. He watched as the blood seeped into the cloth, and he held it there until the blood stopped flowing. Then he held the cloth under cold water for a few minutes and wrung out the water. He yawned as he pulled his shirt down, feeling the shirt stick to the cut. He sighed again and pulled out a band-aid. He couldn't let his shirt get all bloody. Someone would suspect him, and then where would he be?

Carlos went back to bed for a another hour, then gave up and went into the kitchen, getting himself a big cup of water. He drank the water slowly, waiting for someone else to show signs of life in the apartment.

Finally, he heard movement and Katie Knight came down the hallway into the living room where Carlos was sitting. She sat next to him.

"Hey," Katie said to Carlos. She didn't really expect him to reply. Carlos hadn't spoken at all in three months. She didn't expect it to change now. "What are you doing up so early?"

Carlos shrugged. Katie held back a groan. She realized Carlos had been through a lot, and that something in him had broke, but what she didn't understand was why he didn't just open up. Carlos had always been the most talkative person she'd ever met, and he usually wore his heart on his sleeve. It was like he wasn't even the same person.

Carlos stared at his cup. Half the water was gone. That made him think about optimists and pessimists, and he wondered what he would be called. What did you call someone who wanted to be optimistic, but the voices in his refused to let him be?

_A loser_, the voice whispered. Carlos wanted to kick something. That voice had been there for months, torturing him relentlessly, highlighting his deepest fears and worst nightmares. It was so hard not to listen to it, and Carlos really didn't think he could ignore it. It was there 24/7, and it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Hey, guys," Logan yawned as he came into the living room. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a banana. "Either of you want anything?"

"An apple," Katie nodded. Carlos shook his head. Something that no one had noticed was that Carlos hardly ate anything as well. He didn't sleep and he didn't eat. It was impossible for him to do either without feeling horrible.

A few minutes later, Kendall Knight and James Diamond came out of their bedroom, playfully shoving each other.

"Kendall!" Logan groaned. "You're going to make it harder for your arm to heal!"

"Sorry, Dr. Mitchell," Kendall gave him a grin. Kendall's accident had been over four months ago, but his arm wasn't healing right. One reason was the fact that he refused to let him stop him from doing anything, and therefore kept using it as if there wasn't a giant black cast on it. Two weeks ago, he'd tried to play drums with it with no one around and had managed to slam his arm down on the drums, forcing him to fall off the stool and the entire drum set to collapse onto his arm and head. He only had a bruise on his head, but he'd almost broken his arm again. Even Kendall wasn't sure how he'd been able to do that.

"Heeey," James yawned in the middle of his greeting. He made a face and swiped his hair out of his face. "Why do I feel like I haven't slept in forever?"

"'Cause you just woke up," Katie replied, flipping on the TV. "I'm bored."

Carlos rolled his eyes and picked up his glass to take to the kitchen. He was almost there when he heard Logan ask, "Has anyone seen the band-aids? I couldn't find them last night."

_Crash._

Everyone jumped at the sound, looking around for the source of the crash. Logan spotted it first. Carlos had dropped the glass he had been carrying and it had broken when it hit the ground. Looking closer, he gasped. Part of the glass had lodged itself in Carlos' ankle, and the Latino was making a face while he looked at it.

"Whoa!" Kendall gasped as he saw Carlos' ankle. "Logan?"

"We have to get it out," Logan said calmly. He bent down and got Carlos to meet his eyes. "This'll hurt, but it'll be over soon, okay?"

Carlos nodded. Logan pulled the glass out of Carlos' ankle as fast as he dared. Carlos began to sweat, but he didn't look in trouble of fainting. Logan took that as a good sign.

"This needs stitches," Logan said apologetically. He sighed. "Time to go back to the hospital."

**Author's Note: Yay...the hospital. Anyway, thanks for reading! I'm glad I still have a few readers, whether they hate me or not. Remember, you can review if you'd like to, and don't worry about criticism. I take it really well.**

**Sarah: YOU DO NOT!**

**SHUT UP!**


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